The baths were not quite what Dumar had been expecting, being more like several swimming pools side by side.
Tiled walls, floor and ceiling had mosaic scenes covering them featuring creatures that looked as if they actually swam through the water. Linked by the same blue border, each design was crafted to follow the theme of bathing or water.
What he assumed were sea creatures, even some mermaid like beings, and landscapes with waterfalls or beach scenes had been meticulously crafted both above and below the water.
The sulphuric tang in the air told Dumar some of these pools had water heated by volcanic activity. He could also smell soaps and oils, perfumed with unfamiliar herbs and fruits, sweaty bodies and clean skin along with clean water.
Steam rose from some of the pools and men – the female baths were segregated – contentedly boiled in varying degrees of heat.
Shelving units held clean towels that people were exchanging for their clothing and belongings. Warval did the same.
Dumar took a deep breath and prepared for the barrage of questions and odd looks he was about to get before he unclipped the fastenings on his bodysuit. Wrapping a surprisingly soft towel around his waist, Dumar followed Warval to a pool.
A number of people glanced at him as the pair made their way between the pools to one that Warval seemed to select at random.
There was one other occupant in the water who nodded to them as they entered, his gaze lingering on Dumar for a few seconds longer than was courteous.
Warval unashamedly dropped his towel, striding into the water naked and swimming over to the far side. Dumar followed suit and found a seat bordered the pool. Hot water immediately began to soothe his muscles and he exhaled a breath as the calming heat wrapped him in its embrace.
"This is the life," Warval commented to no one in particular as he stretched his arms along the edge of the pool.
Dumar was surprised he had not yet asked about his scars, yet the prince had not.
"How's the chest?" Dumar enquired.
Warval opened one eye and looked at him.
"I hope to make a full recovery," he said snidely, the comment sounding more amusing in his high-pitched voice.
Dumar chuckled.
"I do not find it so funny," the prince added. "I could have been killed."
The completely straight face he managed to keep as he said this made Dumar laugh even more.
Warval smiled and closed his eye again.
"I have never seen a man move with such speed, Dumar, how do you manage it?"
Well, apparently I'm not human, me old mate, so that helps.
"I've always been fast, guess it's just the way I am."
The way I was made, more like.
Warval hummed his acknowledgement.
After some time spent soaking in the heated water, the pair moved to another area where buckets of ice cold water, hanging from overhead frameworks, were plunged over their heads.
Dumar felt his skin tingling as they entered a separate room where a pair of waist high cots stood. Beside each stood a youthful looking woman, wearing almost translucent clothing, so close in appearance they must have been sisters.
With curvaceous bodies, long, straight, midnight-black hair both wore artfully practised coy little smiles while gesturing to the two men to lay on the beds. Warval took one side and Dumar followed suit a second or so later.
The big man waited for the girl to hesitate, to pause at the sight of his scarred, burned, tortured body but felt her small hands run up his back from just above his buttocks all the way up to his shoulders, gripping and kneading.
Warval moaned as he received the same treatment from her counterpart. Trained or highly practised, the young woman knew exactly where to press hardest, where to be more gentle, relaxing Dumar's muscles expertly.
No one's ever laid their hands on me like this.
Dumar frowned as that thought hammered through him. No one had ever touched Dumar in a kind way. He had been beaten and burned, stabbed and hit but never caressed.
Pleasant sensations rolled over his skin and from muscles relaxed while a lump grew in his throat at the thought it had taken so long for someone to be kind.
As the two women finished, giggling as they jiggled their near nude bodies away, Warval looked at Dumar.
"Would you like to do this again tomorrow?" The prince asked.
Why not? I've enjoyed myself more today than any time I can think of.
Dumar nodded.
A couple of days passed during which Dumar spent his time reading the tablet, training with Warval and enjoying the attention of the masseuses.
As he learned more about himself and started to relax in the palace, Dumar actually found he was beginning to enjoy life. Only one event marred his brief time alone when Grethron confronted him.
The old man had entered the sitting room where Dumar was reading the tablet and tapped his staff across to where the big man sat.
"Did you meet Dawa?" He demanded with incredulity written plainly across his rugged features.
Dumar flashed his eyes up to the old man.
"Yep," he turned his attention back to the little computer.
Grethron hammered the tip of his staff on the floor with a resounding thump.
"And?" He demanded.
Dumar gave him the same blank look.
"And what?" Dumar was surprised when the old man actually growled.
"Do you think this is some kind of game?" He shouted. "There are thousands of people about to die and you have met a divine being who may have a solution to this entire problem?"
Dumar shot out of his chair and towered over Grethron, looking down into his ageing face, anger written plainly on his own.
"I've got some shit of my own going on here," Dumar said. He waved the tablet in the old man's face. "And now you know what it's like to have shit kept from you, don't you?"
Pushing the necromancer away, Dumar turned and slumped back into the chair.
"Impudent little..." Grethron managed to rein in his anger a little. "Would you be so kind as to impart any relevant information Dawa gave you?"
Dumar stared hard at Grethron, anger burning in his own chest.
"It said I was unique. It said it wasn't a god and it said I might have a chance of killing Malthrom. But only if you're there too and then only if I choose to drop my promise not to kill."
Guilt hit Dumar felt when he watched Grethron's face pale in shock at his words. The old man's shoulders slumped, as if he had been beaten. He fell into a chair across the sunken pool.
Even so he felt a flash of satisfaction too.
That's what it feels like, asshole.
Grethron sank into a chair himself and sat in deep thought as he digested the things Dumar had just told him.
"He is not God?" The old man asked in a quiet voice.
Dumar saw the despair in his eyes and hated himself for a second.
Shit.
Dumar nodded.
"Yeah, to you, Dawa is God. To Narami and everyone who believes it, he is. To me, though, Dawa's some kind of..." Struggling for the words, Dumar carried on. "Timeless alien being living everywhere and at any time."
"I see," Grethron rumbled in his deep voice. "Did this alien being tell you anything else?"
"Yeah, loads, but just stuff about me."
The old man nodded once and fell back into silent thought.
Dumar sat and went back to reading the tablet when he thought Grethron had finished.
"What are you doing?" Grethron asked.
Dumar glanced at him.
"Trying to find out anything about who my mum might have been."
"Could your father not tell you?"
"Don't know him either." Dumar stated flatly.
Compassion lit the old man's face and his expression softened a little.
"I was unaware you were orphaned, I am sorry."
Orphaned? No I was made.
"Yeah, well it's not like we were ever gonna be a big happy family, so don't worry about it."
Grethron looked surprised.
"May I ask what that device is?"
Dumar sighed and held it up for the old man to see.
"It's like a book, I suppose. But the longest, biggest book you could ever think of. It's got photos and video clips too."
"What are those?"
"Photos are pictures, like paintings and video is like moving pictures."
The old man's eyes widened.
"What kind of powerful being created this?"
Dumar chuckled in spite of his low mood.
"A huge electronics manufacturer called," Dumar looked at the labels on the bottom of the device. "The Tsugina Corporation. Oh look," The big man added. "Powered by Windows, there's a surprise."
Grethron was shaking his head.
"I do not understand anything you tell me about this thing. How can windows be a power source?" Dumar smiled and flipped the tablet, accessing its camera.
"Say cheese."
Grethron frowned.
"What in the name of Dawa..." He trailed off, probably recalling what Dumar had said. "Why must I say cheese?"
At the final word, Dumar snapped a photo.
Not the best picture ever taken, but it'll show the old git something.
Reversing the little computer, Dumar showed the full colour, HD image to its original. Grethron actually jumped as if slapped, then touched his own face before leaning in for a closer look.